Thieves, Secrets and Lies
by Harlequin Ravenwing
Summary: It is said that in Riften, information and secrets can be bought and sold as easily as the shady goods traded by the Thieves Guild. It is also said that the Guild always looks after thier own. For Imperial thief Sabine, they are the only ones who can help when the past finally catches up with her, but who among them can she really trust and what is she hiding from them?
1. The Shill Job

The Shill Job

It was a clear, crisp night in Windhelm, and the biting wind added an extra chill to the already frigid air. High above the rooftops, the light from a myriad stars pierced the black velvet blanket of the sky and streamed down toward the ground as if seeking to illuminate the glistening streets below. The moon, as big and bright as a silver platter, bathed both the dwellings of the common citizens and the Palace of the Kings in a radiant brilliance that illuminated the buildings almost as brightly as if they were in full glare of the morning sun. Even in the narrow alleyways, where darkness had at least managed to reclaim a meagre portion of the city, flickering torches cast dancing shadows upon the walls that drew the unwanted attention of those city guards unfortunate enough to be keeping watch on such a bitterly cold night.

Indeed, Sabine reflected as she flexed her fingers within the snug confines of her mittens, it was times like this when a sharp exhalation of breath or the slightest involuntary slip could ruin in seconds what had taken weeks to prepare.

'_A simple shill job_.' Vex had said back in Riften, handing over the details in the damp hall of the Ragged Flagon. '_Something someone of your skill should have no difficulty with, and I think you might even enjoy this one_.'

There had been a strange look in Vex's pale eyes as she had watched Sabine take the note and scan through the rough, handwritten script for details. At first Sabine had guessed that the blonde Guild Third was amused at the thought of sending her out to Windhelm again as it was certainly not one of her favourite places. It wasn't that the jobs up there were more difficult than anywhere else, and frankly any thief worth his or her salt knew where the bolt-holes and safe houses were should they need to lay low for a while, but it was just the place itself that made Sabine's muscles tighten and her teeth clench. On more than one occasion, she had found herself up there on Guild business, stalking through the snow-filled streets and struggling to pick heavy iron locks that were almost frozen solid with cold. Simple fishing tasks were rendered almost impossible as marks pulled their fur-lined cloaks tightly about them to keep out the worst of winters chill, and in doing so inadvertently frustrated the efforts of would-be pickpockets. In all honesty, those reasons alone were enough to make Sabine want to avoid the city like the plague, but add to that the oppressive presence of the Stormcloaks and attitude of some of the local residents…well, the skeevers in the Ratway were more welcoming.

But then she had seen the name of the target…

Brother to the Housecarl of Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, Rolff Stone-fist was a man Sabine both knew and despised. She had previously encountered him on her first trip to Windhelm whilst carrying out a numbers job for Delvin Mallory, the Guild Second. While searching the Grey Quarter for the local pawnbrokers, Sabine had witnessed both Rolff and another local idiot harassing a lone Dunmer woman as she hurried home with her groceries. They had called out to her, insulted her and knocked the basket from her hands as she tried to pass by them and what their insults lacked in imagination, they more than made up for in vitriol.

Guild training suggested that Sabine should stay out of it, remain hidden and not draw attention to herself by getting involved with local problems that could end up involving the city guard. After all, a thief arrested and carted off to the city jail for brawling was soon identified as such by the accoutrements she carried. Only locksmiths had reason to carry such a glittering array of lockpicks around with them at all times, and the enchanted soft leather armour she wore was certainly not the everyday wear of someone in that particular trade.

However, there were some things that just could not, and _should not_ be ignored…

Stepping boldly into the street, Sabine had confidently approached the nervous Dunmer and begun to help her gather her things. Of course, Rolff had then turned his attentions upon _her_, calling her elf-lover, grey-skin sympathiser and other pathetically uninventive names. Sabine had pointedly ignored it all until she was certain that the Dunmer woman was safely on her way, and then she rose to her feet and slowly and deliberately stepped up to Rolff so that her nose was only inches from his own.

She couldn't help but notice that he stank of mead and his breath was as foul as a pig-fart as he shouted obscenities into her face. Nevertheless, for all his bluster, she could see the flicker of uncertainty that crossed his features as she coolly regarded him, which was quickly followed by a look of surprise when she spat directly into his face, distracting him enough to pull back her fist and slam it into his gut.

Rolff was not a slight man, but the blow had caught him off guard and he doubled over gasping for air as the breath was forced from his lungs. A swift knee to his ruddy face saw him sprawling backwards onto the snowy cobbles, and the sound of his nose breaking was as sweet as fine music to Sabine's ears. Still, pride or belligerence saw him struggling back to his feet and he had lunged toward her, swinging his fist in a clumsy left hook that would have taken her on the jaw had she not ducked under the punch and swept the man's legs out from under him. Then, rather alarmingly his head hit the ground with a sickening thud and but for the padded leather cap he wore, he probably would have been knocked out cold…or worse. Instead, he just lay there groaning for a while before grimacing as he tried to push himself up.

As if finally stirred into action by the plight of his friend, Rolff's companion had then reached down to haul the miserable sod to his feet. Grunting with the effort, he had pulled Rolff's arm over his shoulders as he helped him to stand, albeit rather shakily, and he had flashed Sabine a look that was half challenging and half pleading as he tentatively walked his friend toward the alley that lead away from the Grey Quarter toward Candlehearth Hall. Sabine watched them stumbling away with contempt. No doubt after another round of drinks and a healing potion or two, they would be back on the streets, spreading their hate and filling the ears of anybody who cared to listen with their bigoted claims of _Skyrim for the Nords_ and all that other crap that came too easily to the lips of the truly ignorant.

_Pair of arseholes…_

Still, thankfully the rest of the evening had been a lot less eventful.

As fortune would have it, the pawnshop Sabine had been looking for was just a street away, and aside from the occasional guard passing by on patrol, there had been no one around to catch her as she quickly picked the lock on the stout front door, crept upstairs, made a few minor adjustments to the purchase ledger on the desk, and then got the hell out of there even before the ink on the paper had the chance to dry! It had been a job well done all right and once she got back to Riften, Delvin had even bought her a tankard of ale as he counted out her gold.

Other jobs had soon followed and encouraged by her success, both Delvin and Vex felt confident enough to send her further afield. She had been to Falkreath on a bedlam job, where finding enough items of worth to steal from the city had proved to be quite a challenge in itself. She'd been to Markath, where the houses were set into high the mountainside and had doors with locks that were reinforced with corundum. She'd even been up to Solitude, where locating the target of a fishing job was actually harder than pickpocketing the damn fool, as there were so many people around wanting to join the Imperial Army because of all the civil unrest with the Stormcloaks.

But then this Windhelm job had come in and fate, well Vex anyway, had handed her yet another opportunity to knock Rolff Stone-Fist flat on his arse, figuratively speaking of course.

_Which would be a damn-sight easier if only it wasn't so bloody bright tonight…what the…_

Sabine stared open-mouthed as a shadow began creeping over the ground in front of her and she slowly turned her gaze upward to see a cloudbank inching its way across the sky that was big enough to hide a significant portion of the moon. As welcome darkness started snaking its way through the streets and alleyways, she smiled wryly to herself musing that Delvin would probably say it was all the work of Lady Luck, his particular pet name for Nocturnal. Since he and Brynjolf had joined Karliah as Nightingales in the service of the shadowy Deadric Prince, they had become much more accepting of things like fate and destiny than Sabine was entirely comfortable with. Frankly, she preferred to think that she was in control of her own life, and that the influence of Deadra and the Gods was something for priests and fools to worry about _and not_ self-respecting thieves.

In her experience, life was what you made it and be damned if anyone else was going to interfere.

Still, better not to look a gift horse in the mouth and the respite from the treacherous moonlight provided the perfect opportunity for Sabine to make her way to Rolff's house. Her fingers were comfortably warm and flexible thanks to the sheepskin mittens she'd bought from the Khajit traders out front of the city and once she removed them, even the biting cold was not quick enough to leech the warmth from her nimble digits as she pulled out her lockpicks and opened the heavy iron lock on his back door. Slowly edging her way inside, Sabine crept silently across the wooden floorboards and pulled out a crudely sketched map of the interior from the satchel slung across her shoulders. The glowing coals of the nearby fire-pit cast enough light for her to be able to see the location of a chest marked out in charcoal near the small store room to her left and sure enough, once she prised open the interior door, the chest presented itself as if begging for attention. It was also shut tight and the lock was a fine piece of steelwork that some talented locksmith must have spent hours creating. In fact, it was significantly more difficult to pick than the front door and when the last tumbler finally clicked into place, Sabine allowed herself to feel deservedly smug as she lifted the lid.

Inside were purses of gold, some luxurious pelts, a few gemstones and a fine steel axe that glowed with the aura of enchantment. The thing looked as if it had never been used, and Sabine guessed it was probably a gift from Galmar Stone-Fist, Rolff's older brother. He was the more militaristic of the two and both Housecarl and Second-In-command to Ulfric Stormcloak himself. Obviously Rolff had declined to follow in his brother's footsteps, instead wasting his life in his cups and spending his days harassing any of the residents of Windhelm that were not _true Nords_. Looking at it objectively, he was probably already something of an embarrassment to his brother, but after tonight…

Sabine smiled to herself as she reached into her satchel once more and withdrew a fine filigree silver necklace set with ruby pendant that shone with a radiance of its own. How Vex's clients had come by the thing wasn't important. What was important was that it be found here, in Rolff's house, safely tucked away as if he was hiding it from prying eyes that would ask too many questions. Lifting some of the pelts, Sabine carefully slipped the necklace between the layers of fur and then lowered the lid of the chest and secured it once more.

Suddenly there was a cough and belch from above, and Sabine froze as the floorboards creaked with the weight of someone, _Rolff most likely_, shifting in his slumber on the wooden bed upstairs. Thankfully, there were no further disturbances and after a few tense moments, where her breath caught painfully in her chest, Sabine softly exhaled and finally looked down at her handiwork. A cursory glance of the exterior of the chest would reveal nothing at all to the untrained eye and the contents inside were as she had found them, with the exception of an _additional_ treasure. She was pleased to see there was nothing, _nothing_ to say that anybody other than Rolff had been in the house tonight, and that's exactly how it needed to be.

Stashing her picks and pulling on her mittens, Sabine prepared herself to face the freezing weather once more and left the house by the same door that she had opened earlier. A gentle tug saw the lock click into place without making too much noise, and after checking that the building was secure, _hah_, she walked calmly and confidently toward the gatehouse. There was no point rushing now as that would just draw unwanted attention, and sometimes the best way to blend in was to simply look like you _belonged_. So with a friendly nod to the guard posted at the gate, she passed out of Windhelm with all the blasé indifference of a local resident.

Typically, the stables were outside the city walls, and it was quite a long walk along the old stone bridge that linked up with the main road. However, the thought of getting home was enough to spur her on despite the tiredness she always felt after a job, and she was pleased to see that the stablemaster had looked after Stonehoof as well as he'd promised. Good job too considering the septims she had paid him. At her approach, the stocky, dappled horse whickered softly and lowered his head to nibble affectionately at her leathers as she retrieved her saddle from the back of the stable and prepared to make the journey back to Riften. Once she was seated comfortably atop his broad back, Stonehoof instinctively headed for the road and needed little guidance as he walked on at a pace, snorting at the occasional torchbug and tossing his head as if impatient to be home himself.

As she rocked from side to side, Sabine imagined the look on Rolff's face when the city guard raided his home after receiving an anonymous tip about a stolen necklace. _That's not mine_ he would say, _someone must have put it there_! Oh to be a fly on the wall as he was hauled off to the jail, all the while protesting his innocence and looking for all the world like a guilty man trying to convince his betters that he had done nothing. It was a real shame that she would miss the conversation between him and his brother. With Galmar occupying such a high position at Ulfric's court, he was likely to be furious about the whole thing seeing the embarrassment it could cause, and that was bound to be fun to watch...

Bound to be…

Sabine was still smiling contentedly as she drifted off to sleep and on feeling her posture slacken, Stonehoof eased his pace just a little.

* * *

"I make it ten thousand gold septims and about the same again in gemstones." Delvin Mallory grinned as he ticked off the numbers in the ledger. "Not a bad haul considering half the new lads are as green as grass, eh Brynjolf…I mean, Boss?"

"Aye, it'll do for a start." The tall Nord Thieves Guild Leader nodded in agreement and then ran a gloved hand through his thick, auburn hair. "Still, we've got a long way to go before we can repair the damage done to our coffers by Mercer bloody Frey and his antics."

"That traitorous bastard!" Delvin spat deliberately onto the ground and wiped an ink-spattered hand across his brow. "You know, despite everything that's happened I still can't believe what he did."

"Which part?" Brynolf snorted, noticing that Delvin had accidentally left an inky trail across his forehead. "Betraying the Nightingales, trying to bring the Guild to its knees or leaving me for dead in those bloody catacombs?"

"The first bit, second bit, all of it I guess." The older man sighed and shook his head. "You know what gets me most, Boss? All that time, _all that bloody time_ and I knew something was wrong. The way our luck just kept running out like we was pissing in the gutter, and the shitty jobs he gave you like he was trying to get shot of you or something. I should've seen it coming a mile off."

"But you can't actually blame yourself." Brynjolf countered as he saw the raw pain of self-reproach burning fervently in his Second's eyes. "Gallus was Guild Leader back then and as close to the bastard as anyone else, and even he didn't see it coming when Mercer killed him and chased off Karliah. We had no way of knowing that he'd stolen the Skeleton Key from the Twilight Sepulchre, and everyone assumed we were just having a run of bad luck when the jobs started going wrong, and the money dried up. None of us had any clue that Mercer's actions were the reason for the decline of the Guild, and only Karliah knew the real truth of it and she was long gone by then. Well, I say non-one else knew…" He cast a knowing look toward the statue of Nocturnal that now graced a shrine in the Cistern. "Besides, if even _they_ couldn't do anything about it at the time, then how were you supposed to do something?"

Delvin followed his gaze toward the sternly beautiful face of Nocturnal and then shrugged. "I guess you're right, but still… Aw shit. It's a good job Karliah was there to save your arse when he tried to gut you, that's all I can say. Can't believe I had her figured all wrong as well."

"Ach, c'mon man." Brynjolf clapped him on the shoulder to try and shake him from this uncharacteristic display of doubt. "Mercer told us Karliah was a traitor and we had no reason not to believe him. We knew nothing about Nocturnal and the Nightingales and all that other mystical stuff then. We were just thieves down on our luck. And don't think for one for moment that Karliah blames you for what happened either. That Dunmer's got a _long_ memory but she wouldn't have asked you to join the Nightingales if she didn't trust you."

"The girl certainly has a way with words is all I can say." Delvin agreed, as he drew up to his full height and pulled back his shoulders. "I mean who'd have thought I'd end up as a Nightingale! Although, I always thought she asked me to join 'cos she needed an 'handsome fella with brains to match. To complete the Trinity, I mean. See, she's already got the beauty and the skill aint she, and then there's the bits you bring."

"Oh, and just exactly what _bits_ is it that I bring to this little scenario?"

"Well you're the heart, Brynjolf. The heart and the er…well, you're the um…the hair!" Delvin chuckled as he patted him casually on the back. "Yeah, that's it! With those lovely long red locks of yours, you make up for what me and Karliah aint got, and that's hair."

"Hair?"

"Yup."

"Seriously?"

"Yup."

"Right."

The boisterous laugh that suddenly erupted from Brynjolf's lips seemed to wipe away all traces of the bitterness and guilt that had been threatening to overwhelm them both earlier. Unable to keep a straight face, Delvin also let out a guffaw that soon had him doubled over gasping for breath as tears burst from his eyes, and the decidedly unimpressed look that Sapphire gave them as she passed by on her way to the training room only seemed to make matters even more hilarious. Eventually laughing gave way to gasping as each sought to gain a modicum of control over themselves and Brynjolf smacked his lips together and nodded in the direction of the Ragged Flagon.

"Don't know about you Delvin, but I could do with a pint." He rubbed his hands together and grinned broadly. "You coming?"

"Only if you're buying." Delvin replied, wiping his cheeks and smearing yet more ink about in the process. "I'm starving hungry as well, and Vekel has a nice recipe for smokey salmon steaks that's out of this world."

"Ah, Delvin," Brynjolf began, looking at his friend's inky face. "I think you should…"

"Now don't be a tight arse." He interrupted, looking for all the world like a naughty child. "You're the Guild Leader now, so don't be telling me you aint got the gold to pay for a meal and a brew for your old mate."

"Aye, but you've got…"

"Aw come on Boss, I know you've got the coin! I mean look at the length of your hair for starters. Can't have been cut in years so you've certainly saved a septim or two on Barbers fees."

Brynjolf clamped his lips together and simply smiled. "You have me there, sure enough. Lead on and who knows, maybe we can talk Vex into joining us?"

"Vex, phwoarh. Now she's got a few valuables I wouldn't mind getting me hands on."

"And break your fingers for trying, if you're not careful."

"Worth the effort though, eh? I mean she's got a fine pair of…"

"Delvin…"

"Eyes! I was going to say eyes."

"Sure you were, and I'm the High King of Skyrim."

"So do I look alright in this new armour? I figured Vex might think the Nightingale's pretty anyway."

"You look great, Delvin. Suits you."

"Really?"

"Would I lie to you?"

"Cheers, Boss…ah Vex! Care to make an old man very happy and join us for a brew? You can always sit on my knee…"

"You're kidding right, and what's that crap you've got all over you face?"

"Crap, what crap?"

"Looks like ink…"

"Oh bollocks. Thanks a lot Brynjolf…"

"Don't mention it, Delvin. Don't mention it."

* * *

A soft rain was falling outside, and the gentle rhythm it tapped onto the roof was the only sound to be heard inside the small wooden lodge. The dying embers of the fire glowed in the stone clad hearth and cast a warmth about the main living area that gave the place a feeling of welcome, and of being home. On a nearby table was a place setting for one, the empty plate and unused goblet betraying that the owner had been absent long enough for food never to have been served from the cast iron pot hanging from the spit above the fire. Whatever it was still smelled good and after quietly dropping a ladle into the mixture, Sabine hesitantly lifted it to her lips and tasted a somewhat cold, but deliciously spiced venison stew.

After a few more mouthfuls to sate the gnawing hunger in her belly, she reluctantly replaced the lid and then peeled off her leathers, which were damp and cold from the journey back to Riften. Her boots and jerkin she placed well away from the fire to dry out, all too aware of the damaging effect the direct heat could have on the supple leather and then she finally shrugged off her cotton undergarments and stepped out of her smallclothes. It felt so good to feel the warm air against her bare skin after the cooler climbs of Windhelm, that for a time she just stood in the glow of the dwindling fire, enjoying the way the heat wrapped itself around her as if seeking to draw strength from her presence.

Then her eyes flicked to the dark figure that watched her from the shadows with a shining blade held ready in his hand.

Slowly and deliberately, Sabine stalked toward him and her muscles tensed as she prepared to react. The dim light was reflected in the blood red eyes that followed her every movement, and she grinned challengingly, baring her teeth in an almost predatory fashion. As her own eyes slowly adjusted to the darker interior of the bedroom, she realised the figure too was naked, although his dark, charcoal skin made it difficult to determine where the flesh ended and the shadows began.

Then suddenly he lunged for her, reaching out to pull her close even as the knife fell to the ground with a clatter. Soft lips, full and sensuous, sought to cover her mouth as his slender body pressed against hers and she found her own pale skin flushing with need as she melted against him. Long fingers tangled carelessly in her hair as he moved his attentions from her lips to her throat, and he nipped at the tender skin as if to devour her bite after tiny bite. A softly whispered word of encouragement saw him push against her, guiding her backward toward the bed and pinning her beneath him as he kissed her once more. The urgent hardness of his apparent desire was pressed against her stomach as he lay above her, and Sabine reached down to take him in hand as he gently grasped one of her breasts.

Together they writhed as passion took over from thought and the urge to join became almost unbearable. Then he was free of her hand and slipped his length inside her so quickly that she gasped with the suddenness of it all. A thrust, neither tender nor brutal had her tipping into the realms of pleasure and Sabine cried out as she pressed her hips against his and wrapped her long legs about his waist. Quickly he established a rhythm, one borne of familiarity more than skill, and it had them both reaching for a peak with a sense of desperate urgency before they were spent. Though absence had robbed them both of opportunity, there was enough time to simply feel and enjoy the moment as the act reached its crescendo and they both found the release that had been denied them for so long.

As the wave of euphoria slowly ebbed to away, Sabine placed her hands either side of the sharply featured face of the Dunmer and kissed him. His soft white hair fell across her face as he returned the kiss and she couldn't help but giggle as it tickled her nose.

"Something funny, love?" The Dunmer murmured, as he reached up to push the ivory strands behind his pointed ear.

"You tickled me." She breathed, sighing contentedly as she looked into his scarlet eyes.

"Is that what they call it now?" He said with a wink as he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him and holding her tightly against his chest. "Well, I always was partial to a good tickling."

"Ah, dear gods…" She laughed, squeezing him tightly and laying her head upon his shoulder. "I've missed you, my husband."

The Dunmer looked down and smiled. "And I you, love. These nights have been awfully cold without you."

"Cold?" Sabine chuckled. "Not as cold as where I've been I'll warrant."

His body tensed beneath her fingertips. "Oh really? And where's that then?"

"Romlyn…" Sabine cursed herself for a fool as a familiar and unwanted awkwardness sprang up between them. "You know I can't tell you that. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, of course not. I mean, why should you?" He abruptly removed his arm from her shoulders and placed his hands beneath his head. "I'm only your husband after all. Why should I get to know where my wife is and what she's doing?"

"It's not as simple as that and you know it." She snapped out the words, more angry at herself for rekindling the old argument. "The things I do, the places I go, it's better that you don't know. Trust me."

"Trust?" Romlyn sneered, his snowy brows arching. "Trust is it? You're a thief, Sabine! A bloody thief! Last time I checked, that required a considerable amount of guile and deception on your part."

"Have I ever lied to you?" She asked honestly, trying to fight the frustration that was churning in her gut. "By the Eight Divines, Romlyn! You knew what I was when you married me!"

"Oh yes love, you were quite upfront about all that." His lip curled as if in disgust. "But then again, how else could someone of your means explain this nice house with all your fancy bits and pieces, eh? Don't get things like this on a sell-sword's wage."

"Didn't stop you moving in though did it?" Sabine abruptly jumped up out of bed and began rummaging through her dresser for some fresh clothes. "You know, if all of this bothered you so damn much, you could have just walked away instead of proposing."

"What, and waste all that time I'd spent trying to get into your knickers?" He snickered cruelly. "If I'd have known you'd be this much bother, I'd have spent my time chasing some other skirt instead."

Sabine's heart ached at the Dunmer's callous words. She knew that he didn't mean the things he was saying, that he was only feeling hurt and betrayed, but every time they argued he always threw their relationship back in her face as if it meant nothing to him.

Perhaps it did.

Perhaps it had just been a mistake from the start.

And perhaps she was just too tired to go over this again and again…

Tugging on some bitches and a shirt, she stormed over to her damp boots and yanked them onto her feet.

"Where do you think you're going now?" Romlyn demanded, slipping out of bed and staring at her in disbelief. "Off on another bloody errand you can't tell me about I suppose?"

Sabine pointedly ignored him and pushed him aside as she retrieved her satchel and backpack from the back of a nearby chair.

"So it's like that is it?" He snarled, grabbing her arm and blocking her way as she tried to make a move for the front door. "You running off back to wherever just to avoid talking to me… or is there something else you're not telling me?"

"Out of the way." Sabine stated flatly.

"There is, isn't there!" Romlyn insisted, his features clouded and dark. "Or maybe not something, but _someone_ else I should be concerned about?"

"Romlyn, Don't be so stupid."

"That fella you meet in the marketplace, y'know the Nord with the red hair, or maybe the bloody Breton that looks at me as if I'm shit he's wiped off his shoe. Is that who you're slinking off to be with? Does he give as good as I do, I wonder…? Must do to keep you coming back for more, bloody filthy whore…"

The resounding slap she gave him almost knocked him to his knees and jarred Sabine to her very core. She felt sickened to her stomach by both his cruel accusations and the reaction he had provoked within her, and the tears that burst forth from her eyes were as laden with guilt as they were with shame.

"I…I'm sorry." She stammered, avoiding his staring red eyes. "I never meant…I…I'm sorry. I have to go."

It was difficult to see the handle through the mist of tears that obscured her vision, but the feel of the cold iron in her grasp helped to steady her resolve as cool air rushed into the room. She felt, more than saw Romlyn moving toward her and was not surprised to feel his hand rest lightly upon her shoulder.

"Don't go, love." He gasped, his voice coarse with emotion. "I'm sorry too. You know I don't mean half the things I say. It's just that I get so worried…"

"Let's leave it for now." Sabine whispered, not daring to turn around lest she fall into his arms. "I'll stay at the inn again tonight. We can talk tomorrow once I've…attended other matters."

"I see." He said resignedly. "Till tomorrow then."

Thankfully he didn't protest any further and as the door slowly closed behind her, Sabine crossed the street to the Bee and Barb.

Just as she had done so many times before...

* * *

_In my version of events, Brynjolf and __**Delvin**__ were the thieves inducted into the Nightingales by Karliah, and with Brynjolf himself becoming the new Thieves Guild Master. _

_My Imperial Dovahkiin Sabine Dreth, has been working for the Guild as a thief for quite some time, but has her own reasons for maintaining a low profile which wouldn't be helped if she was running around Skyrim becoming Guild Master, Harbinger of the Companions, Archmage of Winterhold and Thane of here, there and everywhere etc._

_Therefore please bear with me in this slightly AU take on events, but I hope the reasons for my choices become clear in later chapters._

_I don't have much time to write these days, but I can tell you that this whole story is planned out and the plot is complete, so although it may be a while between updates, I hope to see this one through to the end _

_Thank you for reading and best wishes to you!_

_Harlequin xXx _


	2. Riften

Riften

"Keerava!" Delvin Mallory winced and wisely decided to talk a little more quietly. "Keerava, you got any of that fried bread on the go?"

The tall innkeeper looked at him down her long reptilian nose and then shook her scaly head. "Well, don't you look worse for wear? Rough night?"

"Bad pint." He grumbled, finding the Argonian's throaty voice was somehow causing his head to throb even more. "Last one just didn't taste right, that's all."

"That so?" Keerava chuckled as she crossed her scaly arms over her chest. "Wasn't one of mine then. There's nothing wrong with the ale here at the Bee and Barb! Besides, I think it was more a case of quantity than quality that caused the problem." She reached down and took his stubbled chin in her taloned hand. "Yeah, you're as green a Black Marsh toad."

He smiled weakly as he took her hand in his and patted it tenderly. "Ere, take pity on a sick man, and if that means you've got any tomatoes, maybe some eggs to go with that bread…"

"Oh spare me." She rasped, finally relenting with a toothy grin. "Just let go of my hand and I'll have Talen-Jei cook a breakfast for you, if you've got the stomach for it?"

Delvin sighed happily and then placed five septims on the counter before him. "You truly are a goddess among innkeepers, m'lady."

The Argonian snorted good-naturedly and then flounced off into the kitchen.

As Delvin watched her leave, he instantly regretted not asking for a pitcher of water to drink while he was waiting. His gut still felt like it was doing cartwheels and he wasn't sure if the ringing in his ears was from inside his head, or from Balimund hammering on that bloody anvil outside. Still what could he expect? After matching Brynjolf pint for pint last evening, things had taken a bit of turn when the Guild Master had one too many and let his guard down a bit. Whether it was the beer talking or just the need to get it off his chest, the lad had spoken about things that Delvin had suspected for a quite a while, and although it wasn't exactly that much of a surprise to finally hear from his own lips, Delvin had just listened as he talked, hoping it would help him to clear his head and sort himself out a bit.

Naturally, it concerned a woman.

Any other problem and Delvin was sure he'd have known exactly what to say. Problems with one of the lads, have quiet word and sort it out. Problems planning a job, speak to Vex and ask for a second opinion. Problems with Maven Black-Briar, well actually problems with Maven Black-Briar usually meant they were all buggered. But problems with women…gods above. It was never that bloody easy where those kinds of feelings were concerned.

Stupid thing was that Brynjolf was a good-looking guy and the last person Delvin expected to have to deal with this bollocks! He was tall, well built, and had the kind of voice that could charm the septims out the pocket of a miser. When he walked round the market, just about every pair of eyes that followed him belonged to one of the fairer sex, and if he'd only got the gumption, the lad could have had the pick of any of the women in Riften and they'd willingly fall into his bed like leaves off the bloody trees.

But no. Brynjolf didn't want just _any_ woman. He only wanted what he thought he couldn't have…

At first Delvin had suggested just making a move to see what happened but for a thief, Brynjolf was strangely moralistic about some things. It turned out the woman in question was a Guild member too, _no surprise there then_, and he didn't want to do anything that could affect their personal or professional relationship. It was partly thanks to her skill in pilfering and pickpocketing that the Guild was doing better than it ever had, and he figured that if he as Guild Master suddenly started shagging around with the girl, then the others could start to wonder if there wasn't some kind of favouritism going on.

Actually, Delvin thought they wouldn't really give a shit, but then he guessed he didn't have to worry about his position like Brynjolf did. It was far easier to follow than to lead, and that was something else he didn't envy the lad.

To make matters worse, there was more to it than that.

See, it wasn't just that he wanted to bed the girl, oh no. Attractive as she was with a body that begged for some loving attention, the lad cared about her. _Really_ cared about her. Much more than he should. However, although she was one of the best thieves either of them had ever known, the girl had certainly been a lot less successful in her personal life, and the choices she'd made were enough to make a man scratch his head and wonder what the blazes she was thinking. Her husband, _oh_ _yeah, she was married_, her husband was a right toe-rag and seemed to think that he could treat her like crap and she'd come running back every time. Sad thing was, she usually did.

It was during that particular part of the conversation that Brynjolf had started getting a bit carried away…

If he could only make her see what dirty rotten scum he was…could make her see that she'd be better off with someone who could understand her with no need to keep secrets…maybe he should have a word with the elf-in-question…tell him it would be in his best interests to let the girl go her own way and stay out of her life…perhaps he should send Dirge round to flex a bit of muscle…

Seemed the best thing to do right then was to get another round in.

As they necked another bottle of Vekel's finest, Delvin had tactfully suggested that those kinds of ideas were best considered in the morning when sober minds had a chance to properly think things through that drunken brains had planned. Drunk or not, fortunately Brynjolf had agreed saying that it was only wishful thinking anyway, but he just couldn't get her out of his head.

Now Delvin had known Brynjolf for a long time. Firstly as a nipper, new to the Guild and finding his way, then as the Guild Leader and master thief of Skyrim. He'd even come to love the lad like he was his own son, but there was really nothing more he could say to him about the situation with this girl the gods alone knew what he was supposed to do.

So that's when the serious drinking had started as they both tried to drown their sorrows to Oblivion and back in a sea of Black-Briar mead…

Bloody hell fire.

Seemed like a good idea at the time, but then it had been ages since they'd drunk that much and he never remembered feeling so bad in the mornings when he was a younger man.

"Steady on, fella." He muttered to himself as he rubbed his eyes. "Admit you're getting too old for all this and you'll soon start talking to yourself…"

"Too late for that." Keerava stated as she returned with a plate of hot food, stirring him from his hazy memories of the night before. "Age, huh. It catches up with us all eventually...oh…Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough, thanks Keerava."

Delvin knew the owner of the clipped Imperial voice, even before he looked over his shoulder to see Sabine Dreth walking toward him. She looked pale and tired with her hair scraped back into a simple ponytail and dressed in a crumpled shirt and britches. Strange. If she'd just gotten back to Riften now, then where was her guild armour? The girl was a creature of habit if nothing else, and she wouldn't have done the Windhelm job without it…, which meant she must have been home to change, surely?

Oh. Oh no. Not again.

"Another night at The Bee and Barb, Sabby." He groaned disapprovingly. "Ain't you got a bed at home or something?"

She just shrugged as she pulled up a stool beside him and sat down. "I got in late." She explained, doing her best to make it sound casual. "Romlyn had an early start at the Meadery and so I thought I wouldn't disturb him. It was just as easy to sleep here. Besides, Talen-Jei's cooking is far better."

Delvin watched as she picked a piece of fried bread off his plate and nibbled at it without any real appetite. Even in his hungover state, he could tell she looked pale and out of sorts. Now, whether it was because she and Dreth had had words _yet again_, or that Delvin had caught her in the Barb when she should have been reporting back to Vex and Brynjolf in the Flagon, he wasn't entirely certain…but he was pretty sure he could make a good guess.

Flicking a discreet glance toward Keerava, he saw the Argonian give a slight nod of the head before she retreated to a discreet distance. So, Sabine had been here all night then. It was getting to be a common occurrence lately.

"Listen girl," He began, wondering if he should have let Brynjolf send Dirge round after all. "If you need somewhere to stay, we've always got room down below, you know? And you don't have to fork out any gold for bed either. You're one of us, Sabby. You know that."

"It was just one night." She said too quickly, bringing her hands to her face to hide the embarrassment colouring her cheeks. "Besides, I live right across the street and it's easier to fall into this place and nip back home in the morning after Romlyn's left for work."

"So you avoid him at night _and_ in the morning?" He ran a calloused hand over his fuzzy scalp and then stabbed at a piece of fatty bacon on his plate. "Sounds like domestic bliss all right. And they wonder why I never got married."

"I'm starting to regret it myself…"

She'd muttered that under her breath but it was just loud enough for Delvin to hear. A slight tensing of the shoulders and skewed tilt of the head showed that she was worried he had, so he politely pretended not to notice and noisily chewed on another forkful of food. "So…anyway…how did it go _up north_?"

Sabine relaxed a little at the change of subject and regained something of her composure. "It went really well." She said with pride, a genuine smile making her face light up. "I don't mind telling you it was as cold as a frost troll's balls and conditions weren't great. At one point I even thought I'd have to abandon the job, but then I got a lucky break and everything went according to plan and I'm sure that the client will be very happy with the result."

Delvin grinned as he pictured Rolff Stone-Fist having to piss into a bucket in Windhelm jail. That would look really good when his high and mighty brother came to bail him out…

"Well done girl." He said throwing her a wink. "Couldn't happen to nicer fella, but shouldn't you be telling all this to Vex? You were due at the Cistern an hour ago and no doubt she'll be bending the Boss's ear if you ain't there pretty sharpish."

"What time is it…oh shit." Sabine grimaced slightly as she quickly slid off the stool and hurried toward the exit. "I'm on the way right now, Delvin. See you there later?"

"More than likely." He replied as she opened the heavy wooden door. "Though you might want to nip home and get changed first."

He briefly saw her nodding in agreement before she disappeared outside, and then turned back to see Keerava depositing another two slices of fried bread onto his plate.

"Poor kid." She sighed, her scaly brows furrowing in consternation. "Why she puts up with that elf, I really don't know."

The Argonian had gotten rather maternal since she and Talen-Jei had tied the knot recently, and right now, she looked downright protective. If rumours were to be believed, he had the gotten her in the family way pretty soon after the ceremony, which might explain the change of heart. After all, her first encounter with Sabine had been less than pleasant. Way back then, Brynjolf asked the girl to collect overdue fees from the feisty innkeeper on behalf of the Guild, and it had left a pretty sour taste in Keerava's mouth. In the months that followed, the Argonian had not exactly been on the best of terms with Sabine but as time passed, she had warmed to her, which had proved rather useful to Delvin in keeping an eye on her comings and goings.

"So, Sabby spent another night here did she?" He kept his voice conversational like as he toyed with his food. "You'd have thought she would have gone home first. Nice house like that and a warm bed to sleep in. Makes you wonder…"

"Oh, she went home alright." Keerava muttered, distractedly wiping down the counter as she spoke. "While he was taking out the trash, Talen-Jei saw her talking to that no-good husband of hers as she was leaving. Said she seemed a bit tense. Why she just doesn't kick him back to the Ratway where he belongs, I'll never know."

Delvin kept his face carefully neutral. "And this was last night?"

"Actually just after two this morning. We always put the trash out then, so it must have been about that time." Glancing around to make sure they were not being overheard, Keerava leaned in close. "Though between you and me, it's not the first time he's seen them arguing. We've heard them before too. Fighting like a pair of sabre-cats. I tell you, if that's what the priests of Mara reckon marriage is all about, then I'm glad we did it the traditional Saxhleel way instead." The sound of the main doors being flung open grabbed the Argonian's attention. "Excuse me, Delvin. Duty calls…"

A group of travellers had come into the inn and Keerava instantly busied herself seating them at a table and taking drinks orders. Delvin watched with interest for a while, mentally taking note of who wore the best clothes and was likely to carry the heaviest purses, but then his mind drifted back to the conversation with Brynjolf last night.

Maybe it really was a good idea to put pressure on Dreth and scare him off. As it happened, the Dunmer was already under scrutiny from the Guild at the request of Maven Black-Briar. She had her suspicions that he was stealing from the Meadery, and supplying knocked-off kegs to the local innkeeper in Ivarstead. Based on what little information they had, it seemed like he might have been at it for quite some time, but Dreth knew how to cover his tracks well. So far, he had managed to appear white as snow, but then again it was only a matter of time before he tripped up and found himself on the receiving end of Maul's meaty fist. If he was lucky enough to get off that lightly…

What that would mean for Sabine though, that was another matter. Frankly, Delvin was pretty sure she knew nothing about it, _hoped_ she knew nothing about it…

By Nocturnal's naughty nightingales! It wasn't as if he didn't have enough problems to worry about.

A sudden wave of nausea and an ominous rumbling in his gut starkly reminded Delvin that his body wasn't yet through with punishing him for the excesses of the night before. Swallowing hard, he breathed through the urge to be sick and tried to concentrate only on food remaining on his plate. Big mistake. At the sight of the rapidly congealing grease coating his bacon, he felt his gorge rise again and he shakily stood up from the counter, and dashed toward the latrine. As watched his largely undigested breakfast leaving his body, Delvin was glad of one thing and one thing only.

At least Keerava knew how to keep her buckets clean…

* * *

"Hair of the dog that bit you?" Vekel looked down at him with an expression that was half-amused and half-sympathetic. "Or something more substantial maybe? You and Delvin were really putting it away last night."

Brynjolf smiled weakly and passed him an empty tankard. "Just water, lad." He said with a wink. "Anything else and I don't think I can take it."

"Some porridge at least?" The bartender persisted. "You'll feel better for it. Trust me."

"You're probably right." Brynjolf agreed and then reached into his purse. "Two septims, enough?"

"Heh, forget it." Vekel chuckled, walking over to the cooking pot hanging over the fire. "You spent enough coin in here last night to keep the Flagon in mead for a year!"

"I spent that much, huh?" Hazy memories of the night before coalesced into dim recollection of himself and Delvin downing pint after pint…not to mention the embarrassing conversation that followed. "Well, that would explain the headache alright. I feel terrible."

Vekel grinned as he set down a bowl of steaming oats. "You got off lightly my friend. You should have seen Delvin this morning. He looked like he was going to be sick."

"Actually he looked more like death." Vex's voice was tinged with disapproval as she pulled up a chair at the table and gestured at Vekel to bring her an empty tankard. "Whatever it was you two were talking about last night, must have been pretty serious to get you both that drunk."

"Not that serious." He said with a wink as Vekel filled their tankards with water and then tactfully excused himself from the conversation. "It was just a personal matter, lass. Nothing for you to worry about."

The flaxen-haired thief nodded and then took a deep breath. "Still…it's not like Delvin to get into that state before a meeting with Maven." Her ice blue eyes appraised him coolly. "You sure it's nothing to worry about? I mean I am Third now, and if it concerns the Guild…"

"Vex." There was enough of a warning in the way he said her name to bring a flush to her cheeks. "I said it was a personal matter. If it was something that concerned the Guild, I would make sure you knew about it."

At his subtle reprimand, she at least had the good sense to look abashed and offered him a rare conciliatory smile. "I'm sorry Brynjolf. It's just that after all that business with Mercer, I just want to make sure I'm doing my job and keeping track of things. This meeting with Maven for example, why did she want to see Delvin? I'd have thought she'd be dealing directly with you now."

"She'll have her reasons, no doubt." Brynjolf hoped he looked more at ease about it than he felt. "Besides, she and Delvin go way back, and perhaps it's not even a Guild matter they're discussing."

Vex's expression hardened. "Brotherhood?"

"Could be, lass. Could be."

Even though it was no secret Delvin had spent time with the assassins, it was a part of his life that they never really talked about together. As far as Brynjolf was concerned, Guild business was Guild business, and the Dark Brotherhood could go to Oblivion and back if they thought they could elbow their way into the operation now. Still, the connection was there and although he trusted Delvin with his life, Brynjolf knew there would always be that part of him that was hidden and who knows what guilty secrets those murderous bastards had asked him to keep.

"Well, with any luck it's nothing major." Vex rolled out her shoulders to try and banish what remaining tension she obviously still carried over the thought of it. "Last thing we need is the Brotherhood sniffing round here causing problems now we've finally got back on our feet."

"You're not wrong, lass." Brynjolf agreed. "And don't worry. I'm not about to let anything happen to our little family, especially after taking a sword to the gut defending it against the likes of Mercer Frey. I don't care whether it's the Brotherhood, the Stormcloaks or the entire bloody Aldmeri Dominion. This is our Guild now, and we look after our own."

"That's good to know, _Boss_." For the second time that day Vex smiled, and for once there was nothing but warmth in her usually stony face. "You know what? We've gone from strength to strength since you took over. The jobs keep rolling in, and so does the gold. The new recruits are almost up to speed and we've got presence in just about every city in Skyrim. At this rate, we'll be bigger than the Empire and we'll have more septims than we know what to do with…well, well, well." Brynjolf jumped as she jabbed an elbow into his ribs. "Just look what the cat dragged in. What, you get lost on the way here?"

As he followed her gaze, Brynjolf tried his damndest not to look too interested as Sabine Dreth walked in from the Cistern.

"My apologies, Vex." She said as she pulled back her hood and weathered her cold stare. "I got back late and then lost track of the time…"

Vex held up a gloved hand. "Spare me the excuses Dreth, I've heard 'em all. Just tell me you got the job done."

"Let's just say that Stone-Fist will be spending some quality time in Windhelm jail as you requested." There was definitely pride in the Imperial's haughty voice, but also she sounded a little defensive. "I expect you will hear from the client very soon."

"I should hope so. Here, this should cover your expenses." Vex rose up, pulled a fat coin purse from her belt and held it toward Sabine, but at the last minute she snatched it out of reach. "Although I should really dock your pay for keeping me waiting like this..."

"I said I'm sorry." Sabine cut in quickly, then immediately shrunk back from Vex's icy glare. "It's just that I had a personal matter to attend to…"

"Oh gods, not another one! Seems everybody's having problems these days." The Guild Third rolled her eyes and finally tossed the purse into Sabine's waiting hands before leaning back against the bar. "So what's up? You break a nail getting into Windhelm? Your favourite lockpick broke? No wait, I know. You're going to tell me we're not paying enough to clear your debts?"

"No, I…" Sabine's dark brows suddenly furrowed over her nose. "Wait, debts…what debts?"

"You mean you don't know? Seriously?" Vex's mouth twisted into a cold sneer at Sabine's growing discomfort. "Well, maybe you should speak to your husband about it, because I'm guessing from the look on your face he hasn't told you?"

An awkward silence was the only reply she received.

"Wow. Guess not, huh? Well, seems like dear old Romlyn likes to throw knucklebones with Hofgrir, Balimund and Indaryn. They play pretty regular from what I hear. Anyway, it turns out that the mead was flowing, the bones were rolling and the stakes were high. Indaryn was on such a winning streak that he was set to walk away with enough septims to buy the Meadery outright, not that Maven would ever sell. But Romlyn figured he could take him with just one more throw. Even bet a whole load of coin that he didn't have. I assume you can work the rest out for yourself?"

"And you came by this information how exactly?" Sabine's face had gone as pale as milk, and her eyes were like two chips of hard grey granite.

Vex shrugged. "There's precious little goes on Riften without us finding out about it Sabine, you should know that. Speaking of which, how is married life these days?"

"Vex…" The angry timbre of Brynjolf's voice startled her and she looked at him warily. "Don't you have somewhere else to be, lass?"

He thought for one moment she would make something of it, as she often used to in the past before he became Guild Leader, but then she accepted his dismissal and even looked a little hurt before she quickly composed herself. "Sure, Boss." She said as she began to walk slowly towards the Cistern. "I have some new jobs to dish out anyway. You sure you don't want in on any of these? Sounds like you'll need the extra coin?"

The latter was directed at Sabine, and she answered it with a glare that could have withered crops. Lucky for them both, Vex disappeared through the door before things escalated into a catfight and with her leaving, it seemed the entire atmosphere in the Flagon had lifted.

Sabine just stood there then, looking somewhat shaken and disturbed. Not, Brynjolf suspected, from Vex's barbed comments, but from the thought that her husband had gone and done things behind her back that could affect her standing not just with the Guild, but also in Riften itself. Not that he was surprised by it. Romlyn Dreth was nothing more than a scavenging mudcrab that probably saw his wife only as an attractively packaged source of income.

One day he would have to have serious words with that man.

But not right now.

Right now Sabine looked for all the world like the rug had been pulled out from under her and she didn't need an angry boss to go wading into domestic matter on her behalf. What she needed was a friend.

"Sit down, lass. You look like you need a drink."

Her shoulders sagged slightly and he was pleased to see a faint smile ghost across her lips. "Really? And here I was just thinking you look like you've had one too many already."

Brynjolf grinned up at her and pushed out the chair beside him with is foot. "Aye, last night maybe, but I'm feeling much better now. If you think I'm bad, you should see Delvin. Sick as a dog I hear."

"I must admit, he didn't look that great when I saw him earlier." She dropped into the proffered chair and chuckled softly. "In fact, I thought he was going to throw up at one point."

"Never in front of a lady." Brynjolf replied, watching as her expression slowly changed from one of affectionate amusement to serious thoughtfulness. A long silence followed and he cleared his throat. "Listen, I've got water here but it I'm thinking you really need something stronger."

He waved to Vekel to bring over a goblet of sweet white wine and watched as Sabine slumped down and wiped her hand over her face. She took the goblet gratefully and swallowed a few mouthfuls before setting it aside.

"I didn't know Brynjolf." She said with the hurt all too evident in her voice. "I swear, I didn't know about any of this."

"I can see that, lass. Must be one hell of a shock."

She nodded mutely and then stared distractedly into the distance, chewing anxiously on her lower lip. The habit made her seem younger than her years and appear more than a little vulnerable. If she was aware of how much it made him want to sweep her up in his arms and protect her from harm, then she gave no outward sign. Sighing to himself, he took the moment to study her, committing to memory the way her raven-black hair hung loose about her shoulders, stirring gently in the breeze. Her eyes, hard as stone a second ago, were now as grey as a stormy sky and seemed as deep and endless as the ocean. A slight blush sprang suddenly to her cheeks, the dusky pink adding a trace of colour to her pale complexion, warming her ivory skin as it crept over her face.

And then their eyes met…

"I'm sorry." Brynjolf said as he broke the contact first, realising he was the reason for the unexpected rush of colour. "I didn't realise I was staring like that."

"It's alright." She said, hurriedly lowering her own gaze and absently playing with a fork. "I think I was staring too. Just thinking about…uh, about Romlyn I mean."

Oh yes, him….

"Ah, I see." Brynjolf leaned back and looked at her intently. "So if you don't mind me asking, what are you going to do?"

"Pay the debt I suppose." Her mouth tightened into a thin line. "Though, I guess it depends how much it is."

"Would this help?" Without even thinking, he reached for the coin purse at his belt.

"No!" She snapped quickly, then shook her head. "I mean, no thank you. It's just that I can't take that. Not from you, not like this."

He wondered if he looked as puzzled as he felt.

"No, I didn't mean it like that." Sabine blushed again and thumped her fist on the table. "By Arkay's balls, I'm getting everything wrong lately! What I meant to say was it's not about the septims, not really. See I have coin, coin that thankfully Romlyn doesn't know about, but I was keeping it for…well, for those times when it makes all the difference. You understand?"

Brynjolf cocked an auburn eyebrow and shrugged. "All too well, lass. But you're Guild. You should know you can come to us about anything, come to _me_, about anything. I'd never sit back and watch you struggle."

His breath hitched in his throat as she laid her hand atop his and leaned forward. "I do know that, Brynjolf. And that means more to me than…than…than you can ever imagine."

"As you mean to me…" He said softly, finding himself being drawn toward her. "As…as one thief to another…obviously…"

There was definite danger here. Sabine was feeling hurt and exposed. He was feeling, well, whatever any normal red-blooded Nord would feel at being so close to the woman he wanted more than all the gold in Skyrim.

Gods above…if this was one of Nocturnal's bloody tests, then he was about to fail miserably.

_Get a hold of yourself, man! _

"Sabine…" He began, reluctantly pulling back and forcing himself to appear relaxed. "I just wanted you to know that the offer is there if you need any help. I'd do the same for anyone else here."

She looked more startled at his response than anything else, jerking back her hand as if his very touch burned. "I know you would." She said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "And I thank you for the offer Brynjolf, but I have to sort this out myself."

"Aye lass. If that's what you want."

"It is. Excuse me, but I have to go."

His heart and loins were pounding as he watched her depart. She couldn't get out of there quick enough! A brief glance toward the bar showed that Vekel had been joined by his lady, Tonila. The two seemed deep in conversation with Vekel staring intently into the Redguard's eyes…a little too deep truth be told. Experience told him they were probably trying to make out that they had neither seen nor heard what had just transpired between Sabine and himself, but no matter. They were good people and not likely to gossip about things which did not concern them.

Rubbing the tension from the back of his neck, Brynjolf closed his eyes and took several deep, calming breaths.

By Ysgramor's Beard. For a moment there, he had thought that she felt something for him too. A mutual attraction seemed as intense as it had seemed right, but then there had been that look. That same look he always saw on the face of a deer when he had given himself away during a hunt.

He'd obviously gone too far, and made a mistake. Hopefully she wouldn't think anything of it and they could continue being…being what? Guild Leader and thief? Trainer and protégé? Admirer and Admired…

With any luck, she'd settle for just being friends. That much he could give her freely and he'd just have to stop wishing for things to be different. Sabine Dreth was a married woman and she already had her life outside the Guild with that lying, cheating, sneaky bastard she called a husband…

_Stop it. Just stop, Brynjolf._

Swallowing the last mouthfuls from his tankard, Brynjolf was disappointed to recall he had ordered only water from Vekel and that the honeyed taste of Black-Briar Mead wasn't there to wash away the bitter taste in his mouth. But then again, wasn't that half the reason he had opened up to Delvin in the first place about feeling like some lovesick boy?

And what was it had Sabine said about the old Breton…oh yes, '_I thought he was going to throw up at one point'_

Perhaps they should all take it as a lesson and should stay the hell away from the mead for a while.

Well, it was certainly worth considering anyway.


End file.
